perhaps not

we stood silently on the bus. it was a bumpy road.
i searched for you in the blindness while you did the same for me.
chest, arms, hands, fingers straining, stretching, groping
for us both. trying to find the handle that we longed to hold,
grasp, and understand, and to heave ourselves into safety and surety.

there was a jerk, than a bump. we waited for the crash.
for the bus to slam into the oncoming comet-like traffic
whizzing past us like a dream, a fleeting moment that disappeared,
but left a mark on you and me.

we clung desperately. silently, not wanting the other to know,
trusting the lies we told ourselves while looking at the other's eyes.
we were slipping. we clung desperately at the seats, rails, anything,
but our knuckles buckled, fingers slipped, and we fell.

silently we stood. you dusted yourself and alighted with a bloodstain
that marred you. i let go of the rails, finally. i look at you
fleetingly, disappearing into the dark through the frosty glass.
as we grow you became older, and i, too young for you.
the bus rolled away. it was never meant to be.